Battle of the Sexes

Chapter One

Carver

Wah. Wah. Wah.

Board meetings don't usually have me this fidgety. I'm usually attentive and focused at these things, but not today. Today, I'm dying.

The rumor around the office all week has been that Dennis Gallum, our intrepid CEO, is stepping down from his position after a medical scare that turned out to be nothing. Apparently, when you think you're dying and then you're not, you start rearranging your priorities. Instead of wanting to show up at Jones + Gallum and spend his days figuring out how to take the restaurant world by storm, Dennis and his wife now want to join my parents on a yacht in the Caribbean.

Hey, I have no problem with that. I can finally pull out that name plate I've had stored in my desk the last six months.

Carver Jones, CEO.

Carver Jones, C-E-O or C. E. O.

I've waited on this day since I took over the role of President from my father a few years ago. This is the moment I've prepared for my entire life. It's finally coming to fruition.

Carver Jones, CEO of Jones + Gallum.

Damn, that looks good.

Dennis stands from his spot at the opposite end of the table. Smoothing out his tie, he does a quick scan of the faces watching him. The old windbag has always liked the spotlight. "I would like to address the board," he begins, sucking in a deep breath. "After much thoughtful consideration over the last few weeks, I've made the decision to retire."

The board murmurs amongst themselves as Dennis' gaze falls on mine. I do my best to appear shocked, even tossing in a frown, all the while fighting to keep from jumping out of my chair and sliding down the conference table, fist-pumping.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Dennis," I sigh. "This place won't be the same without you."

It'll be so much better.

"With that being said," he continues, pulling his eyes from mine, "I would like to make a recommendation. I realize the Board is at liberty to make whatever decisions they find fitting for the future of Jones + Gallum. However, as the CEO for the past twenty years, I do feel my input may be worthwhile."

Nodding emphatically, I encourage him to continue.

"Absolutely," Henry Salvo, the Chairman, breaks the silence. "The Board would find your recommendation helpful as we determine how to proceed."

I flip through my yellow legal pad until I find the sheet with the acceptance notes I scribbled out this morning. They're a few short key points I'd like to make as my first official duty as Chief Executive Officer—just a few things that have been rolling around my head the last year or so.

Bending the corner over for easy access, I look up at Dennis. He's not looking at me.

"Mr. Salvo, members of the Board, it is with much thought that I suggest ..." He looks at me, then back at Salvo. "... I suggest my daughter, Amity Gallum, take my position."

"What?" I burst out. My chair propels back, the sound of the wheels screeching across the tile floor echoing through the cavernous room.

The board's chatter increases, some looking at me out of the corner of their eyes, as Gallum stabs a knife in the center of my back. I see his mouth moving, but don't hear the words as fury drowns out any sound besides the roar of blood rushing past my ears.

"This is incredible," I sputter finally. "I've worked in this company for three years—as President, no less. I have the education and the experience, not to mention the passion and drive, to see a company I love, a company I bleed for daily, succeed. With all due respect, while I understand Mr. Gallum's position, I do find it to be a little ridiculous."

As the board whispers amongst themselves, I wait for Gallum to look at me. He won't.

"How can you do this to me?" I ask him.

"Carver, please, don't take this personally."

"Don't take this personally? How in the hell do you expect me not to take this personally, Dennis?"

"I'm just suggesting they take a look at Amity. That's all."

"I understand you want her involved in your business," I say, trying desperately to contain myself. "But she can do that on a level she's capable of."

He nods his head, a scowl on his face. "You know nothing about Amity, Carver."

"That precisely why asking her to be considered for the top position is utterly ridiculous. You know it." My fists clench at my sides before I slam my day planner over the notepad, my blood singeing my veins. It's only when Salvo clears his throat that I pull my glare away from Dennis.

"The board has taken both positions under advisement. It's our stance that the restaurants controlled by our company need a breath of fresh air. We all know sales have been a little stagnant as of late." Salvo looks at me. "We will accept a résumé from Ms. Gallum and go from there."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"You will have every opportunity to rise to the position yourself, Mr. Jones. But at this point, we'd like to keep our options open."

Game. Fucking. On.